


Liminal

by gleefulmusings



Category: Glee, Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/gleefulmusings
Summary: The greatest warlord since the death of Xena, Kurt finds himself on a similar path in a quest for redemption. Haunted by his murderous past and pursued by a vengeful god, he tries to atone for the atrocities he committed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just FYI, I will probably never add more to this, but it's an idea that's been gnawing on me for a long time now, so I wrote this to exorcise it and move on.
> 
> Yes, this is basically a retelling of Xena, but with Kurt in her place. I thought about avoiding her completely, but that's a line I don't want to cross. Xena cannot and should not be erased. Thus, Kurt is a warlord who rose to prominence after Xena's presumed death, as she wasn't around to stop him.
> 
> Now he finds himself walking in her boots and doesn't know if he can hack it.

The sun was high, burning hot and white as though in anger. Kurt knew he should probably pull off the trail and settle for a bit, at least until the heat of the day began dying. He knew was already beginning to dehydrate, and if he was, certainly Calliope was in need of a break.

“Just a few more leagues, girl,” he said lovingly to the horse. “There should be a stream over that next ridge.”

Calliope nickered and turned her head, pinning him with a basilisk glare and suggesting he was only making her burden that much greater.

He narrowed his eyes. “Did you just call me fat?”

She whinnied and began prancing forward, confident her human now knew his place.

“Ornery horse,” he mumbled, startled when Calliope bucked just enough to let him know who was in charge. He sighed. He had conquered entire nations, but was reduced to a petulant child by an obnoxious horse who had somehow wormed her way into his heart and believed him to be her foal.

He struggled to pay attention to his surroundings. He hadn’t been on the Peloponnese in several cycles but knew it was dangerous, especially for lone travelers. Platea was due north and he should make it by nightfall, though he was wary of making camp close to anywhere near civilization.

He probably should’ve sailed on to Corinth, but that city was not filled with happy memories. Should he have docked there, he likely would have either been met with celebrations or recriminations, and he was anxious to avoid both. He was also unsettled being within a few days ride of Sparta, but there was nothing to be done for it. The truth of the matter was there was hardly any part of Greece in which he hadn’t shed blood, either directly or through manipulation.

All he wanted now was peace, which was why he had bypassed Athens and Corinth by coming to shore at Eleusis, inveigling the captain into dropping him off under the pretense of paying homage to Demeter. Now that he thought better of it, he probably should have done just that, for Demeter was one of the few gods with whom he had no relationship, good or bad.

Perhaps he should’ve stayed on board. The ship was destined for Illyria and would have passed right by his home in Acarnania, but he was weary of further sea travel, especially after those long weeks on the Aegean.

His eyes turned distant at the thought of Troy, but he quickly shook off the haunting memories. He was happy to be back on land and, though it would add weeks to his journey, he preferred leading his own travels. He hoped his father would welcome him with open arms, though he doubted it would be so easy. Nothing ever was in his life.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, pretending it was Hercules holding him. Once again he questioned whether he should have stayed with Hercules. It would have been easier, certainly, not to mention safer and warmer, but this was a journey Kurt knew he had to make on his own. Hercules knew, too, which was why he hadn’t argued, though he had been sad and disappointed.

And there was Iolaus to consider. It was one thing for Iolaus to forgive him; it was something else entirely to condone Kurt traveling with them. Iolaus would probably never like him, but Kurt held nothing but respect for the other man. He could only hope that, should their paths ever cross again, time would have helped to heal the many hurts he had inflicted.

He had never meant to come between them, despite knowing he was doing so. Hercules and Iolaus were best friends, created to walk through this life together, and while they had their romances with others, love affairs that were true and truly felt, none had ever driven a wedge between them. Until Kurt.

Maybe it was because he was a man. Maybe it was because he was half their age. Maybe it was because he had painfully reminded Ioalus of the last time it happened.

Kurt sighed. It wasn’t the first time he had been accused of being the male Xena of old, but this was the first time he hadn’t relished the comparison.

He slid off his saddle and guided Calliope up the ridge and into the glade beyond, where a clear stream burbled its welcome. He filled his waterskin and left Calliope to slake her thirst as he wandered over and sat atop a fallen log.

It had been twenty years since Xena and Gabrielle had perished in the aftermath of the Twilight. He had grown up on stories of her legend, most of them inspired by Gabrielle’s scrolls, a few of which had been discovered and then circulated throughout Greece. Sadly, it was Xena’s adventures prior to her redemption which had most enthralled him and, like Xena, he hadn’t learned from his mistakes until it was almost too late.

But he had learned and his time with Hercules had driven the lessons home.

If he wanted to _be_ better, he had to _do_ better.

It sounded so easy, which was why Kurt knew it would be impossible.

There was already so much standing against him: memories, countless deaths for which he was responsible, and capricious deities. He knew Xena would have been horrified that the gods she had killed hadn’t stayed dead, but simply abandoned Greece and flocked to Rome, where they were reconstituted due to need and belief. Considering what that cesspool had done to her and Gabrielle, he figured Xena would’ve felt it was a good place for them.

He shook his head. _Gods_. Much more trouble than they were worth, save a few. As he was rolling his eyes, he noticed a kettle of vultures flying high overhead, about five leagues to the east. He frowned. Vultures were associated with Ares, but if the god of war had wanted to converse with him, he would have just appeared.

His eyes narrowed. Something or someone was probably dead in the forest, but since the vultures were circling and not landing … He couldn't take the chance.

He jumped to his feet and vaulted into the air, somersaulting until he landed on a sturdy branch, high in the copse of trees. He then began running, leaping from tree to tree. He smirked. As if only Amazons were capable.

Reaching his destination in short order, he looked down from his vantage point, dread filling him as he gazed upon the body of a young man dressed in slave rags. The kid had probably made a bid for freedom and either got beaten by his master for the trouble, or jumped by bandits shortly after his escape. Kurt sighed. The least he could do was give the boy a proper funeral before the body was scavenged.

Kurt tilted his head and ... yes! By the gods, the boy was still alive! Barely, but he was alive. He flipped down and landed cautiously, eyes darting around for possible trouble. Quickly discerning there was none, he rushed over and anxiously felt for a pulse. It was thready, but it was there.

He quickly did an assessment. The boy had been badly beaten, but the greater concern was the stab wound in his side. The bleeding was neither profuse nor bright red, so it was likely an artery hadn’t been nicked, but that didn’t mean he was out of the woods. It needed to be sewn up and infection was all but guaranteed.

Kurt removed his waterskin from his waist and gently tilted the boy’s head, placing the opening between dry, cracked lips. Quietly urging him to drink, Kurt looked around in dismay. There wasn't much in the way of styptic herbs to staunch the bleeding, but he did see some nettles which, if ground, would at least help to disinfect the wound.

Before he could move, however, a surprisingly strong hand clasped his arm.

“Who are you?” the boy gasped.

He frowned at the rattle in the boy’s voice. Fluid in the lungs. His attackers must have attempted to down him. “My name is Kurt. Don’t try to talk. Save your strength; you’re going to need it.”

Curious green eyes roved over his face, studying it in detail. “Eyes like mermaid’s tears,” he whispered. “You … you’re Kurtis, the Swan of Sollium. Beautiful, but will strip the flesh from your bones.”

“I used to be,” Kurt muttered. “Now I’m just trying to save your life.”

“Why? I’m nothing to you. Why give me your help?”

“Because you’re dead without it.”

“I’m Sam of Apollonia.”

Kurt raised a brow. Interesting segue. “It’s a long way from Macedon, Sam.”

Sam turned his head and coughed. “Roman slavers. They burned the village and killed all of the adults. My brother and sister, I tried …” he trailed off, tears springing to his eyes.

Kurt clapped a hand over Sam’s mouth. “ _Stop talking_. You can tell me when you’re not lying in a pool of your own blood.”

Once sure Sam would shut up, Kurt stood and put two fingers in his mouth, whistling for Calliope, knowing she’d heed his call despite the distance. He needed to get Sam to Platea as soon as possible. Field medicine wasn’t going to cut it and he was sure there was a hospice on the outskirts of town.

He shook his head, suddenly angry with the compassion he felt, and began gathering the nettles, anticipating crushing them into powder.

Of course it would be this. Of course this would be his first test. Because why wouldn’t it? Why wouldn’t he be expected to save a boy who had watched his family killed and then taken as a slave? Why wouldn’t it be Romans responsible? And now, _of course_ …

“Spot of trouble?”

He stilled and continued staring at the ground, shutting out the voice.

“Oh, my,” it drawled. “How do you get yourself in these predicaments, Kurtis?” It clucked its tongue. “Poor boy. Only a child, really. I wonder how many orphans just like him you created.”

Kurt closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. “I never had slaves. I was never part of the trade.”

“True. But how many lives have you destroyed? How many innocents have you killed?” Derisive laughter. “Do you think saving him balances the scales? Do you really believe you can right your many wrongs?”

He looked up and stared into her face. “No, but I do have to wonder why you’re so interested, Minerva.”

He chuckled when she scowled. She despised the name the Romans had given her.

“I gave you everything,” she hissed. “You would be nothing without me, yet you forsook me for some ridiculous notion of redemption? You are _mine_ and always will be. Once your little foray into the world of heroics comes crashing down upon you, I will be waiting and you will be punished.”

He cocked his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You gave me nothing that wasn’t already inside of me. You might have stood by as I fought and won countless battles, but they were won by _me_ , not you. You were nothing more than a whisper in my ear and I was nothing more to you than a possible stepping stone back into Greece. Don’t fool yourself into believing anything else.”

“I gave you my favor!”

“I never asked for it and never wanted it. I promised you nothing.”

“You dare mock me? You dare mock a god?”

“Look around you, Athena. Your worship no longer exists here. Go back to Rome and lord your great intelligence over those who don’t know any better. We’re done.”

“We’re done when I say we’re done!” she roared.

He rolled his eyes and stood, crossing back over to Sam.

Athena’s eyes began glowing gold and Kurt surreptitiously reached for his sharur.

“Welcome home, sis.”

Kurt began tending to Sam as Apollo stepped in front of them.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt hovered over Sam as the two gods danced around each other while making ludicrous threats. Calliope wandered into the clearing, snorted at Athena, and came to stand next to her human. Kurt stood and began rustling through his saddlebags.

Grabbing a mortar and pestle, he quickly ground the nettles into powder, adding a bit of water from the stream and some cobwebs from nearby shrubbery, forming a poultice. Crude and foul, it would nevertheless be serviceable until he could get Sam to Platea. The nettles would work as an antiseptic and the cobwebs would encourage the blood to coagulate.

“Well done,” Apollo congratulated him, not surprised when Kurt said nothing. Their relationship had always been tempestuous, but never outright acrimonious.

He took a moment to study Kurt, finding he had only grown lovelier in his time away from Greece. Again he rued his treatment of the mortal all those years ago, but he had been afraid to allow him too close, to love him as he had wanted. Instead, he had sent Kurt away, never realizing until too late how badly it had devastated the boy, turning him bitter and hardening his heart.

“Still stuck on what you threw away?” Athena sneered. “Because it worked out so well for Adonis and then Hyacinthus.”

Apollo glowered at the cheap, hurtful shot. “Still hung up on what you never had?”

She curled a lip. “He is mine. Kurtis will be mine until he dies and nothing you, or any other god has to say about it, will change that.”

He smirked. “Oh, I beg to differ, sis. You know as well as I that, even though Zeus has been banished to Rome as Jupiter, the laws he put in place here are immutable.”

“So?”

“ _So_ , you should have paid closer attention. A mortal can only be the Chosen of _one_ god, and Kurt was chosen long before you stormed onto the scene.”

“Are they fighting over you?” Sam whispered to Kurt, who shook his head.

“I’m just an excuse. Now that their worship has died further and further away, they can’t interfere with humanity as they once did, so the only exercise they get is fighting each other.”

Apollo easily overheard and raised a brow in response. He didn’t argue because it was true.

Athena was too angry to hear anything but her own shouting. “And who chose him? You?”

Apollo grinned. “Well, let’s see. Kurt is an excellent healer, an archery master, can play the lyre, and has a beautiful singing voice. Which god oversees those areas?”

Athena scowled. “He doesn’t have your mark.”

Apollo shrugged. “He doesn’t need it. As he said, he never asked nor accepted your favor; or mine, for that matter. Everything he’s accomplished has been of his own doing, and that’s _why_ he’s my Chosen. He’s only ever depended on himself, never me, and that is what’s most impressive about him. I’ve paid close attention to him since his birth and, as stated, any aid you lent over the years was incidental.”

His eyes turned arctic. “By the way, sis, just so we’re clear: Kurt _is_ my Chosen, but he has more of our family looking out for him than just me.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Like who?”

An explosion of pink hearts heralded a new arrival. “Like me, Iron Maiden,” Aphrodite chirped, turning toward her friend. “Kurty, your new boy-toy needs some, like, mondo help. Off you go.”

She waved her fingers as he began protesting her description of Sam, before both boys, and the horse, disappeared. She whirled and faced Athena, eyes filled with rancor.

“Look, bitch, you can save whatever tripe you’re about to spew about how I’m nothing but fun and frolic. It’s your own fault you’re in this mess, so save those of us who _weren’t_ arrogant idiots from your whining.”

“How dare you?” Athena seethed.

“Because she’s right,” said a stern Apollo. “The prophecy of the Twilight was given by the Fates themselves, Athena. There was no way you could have stopped it. Even Zeus never had the power to go against them. If you and Father hadn’t been so filled with righteous indignation, none of this would have happened.”

“You didn’t have the balls to stand with us,” Athena accused, “and look where it got Artemis.”

He puffed up like a spitting cat and stalked toward her. “It’s your fault my sister is dead! Yeah, she’s now serving Rome as Diana, but she belonged to Greece! You made it a self-fulfilling prophecy and got most of our family killed and expelled from their home! You poisoned her with your bloodlust and look at the results!”

Aphrodite nodded. “The Amazon Nation has been scattered into tiny tribes, persecuted by the Romans and losing more of their territory every day.” She shook her head and sighed. “Gabby would be so sad.” She curled a lip. “You knew how much she meant to me, and you almost killed her!”

“What is the life of one mortal when compared to the Pantheon of gods?” Athena demanded.

Aphrodite sneered. “What use is a god who has no mortals to worship them? Room could have been made for the god of Eli, not everyone would have deserted us, but then you and Ares had to make Xena and Eli martyrs, and that’s why things are … the way they are.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You were never anything but a bit of fluff.”

Aphrodite’s entire body began to glow in rage. “Stupid little girl. I. Am. _Eternal_. I might have been given this form only in the past few thousand years, but I existed when Chaos was still giving birth to this world. I am _Love_ , jerkwad! I am in the heart of every god and mortal and animal. I am in every tree, shrub, blade of grass that covers this earth! The only gods needed are me and Ares, love and war, because it is from us that everything else springs. I’m glad Sunny here stuck around, though, because he’s fun and incredibly hot.”

Apollo arched a brow, vain enough to be mildly appeased.

She began advancing. “You think you’re so special just because Zeus birthed you from his brain? For someone supposedly so intelligent, you’re a complete dumbass. Remember, honey, you’re not the goddess of wisdom, but of wisdom _in warfare_. We all know how badly you’ve failed at it. Xena, a mortal, beat you at Amphipolis. Then she beat all of us when she starting killing gods.”

She snorted. “And now you think you can just waltz back into Greece? That’s what you really want with Kurt, isn’t it? For him to fight under your yoke, since all of your alleged warriors have been beaten into the ground. By him, no less. As if! Do you _really_ believe the gods who still exist here are going to fall in line and acknowledge you as some supreme deity? Because that worked out so well before!”

“Leave, Athena,” Apollo spat, “before you learn that Xena’s Chakram is not the only way to kill a god.”

“You have no honor,” Athena said quietly, “no loyalty.”

Aphrodite crossed her arms. “I have no loyalty to someone who puts their safety above that of everyone else. You weren’t brave; you feared for your life and _only_ your life. You were a coward, and we all know it.”

Athena squared her shoulders and gave them a haughty look. “This will not go unpunished. You will pay for your treachery.”

Aphrodite snerked. “Go back to Rome and let one your acolytes suck on your teat. You’re not needed here.”

As Athena’s eyes flew open in affront, Aphrodite again waved her hand and smiled as her sister disappeared.

Apollo released a long breath. “I’ve never seen you so fired up,” he said cautiously.

She shrugged. “I’ve never wanted to prove just how mortal an immortal can be. Look, Sunny, I get that you’re happy Kurty’s back and you want to try and pick up where you left off, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get in his face just yet, okay?”

He sighed. “I understand, and I agree. You’ll look out for him?”

“Of course I will.”

He knew she meant it. “And if Ares interferes?”

She met his gaze. “Then he’ll learn the hard way just what a badass I can really be.”

 

* * *

 

 

The Sisters of Gaia had made Sam as comfortable as possible and didn’t object when Kurt insisted on tending to him. In fact, they watched carefully and made note of techniques with which they were not familiar. They knew who Kurt was, everyone did, but he had willingly surrendered his sword and never strayed from Sam’s side. He posed no danger.

After working for almost a candlemark, Kurt finally sat down next to Sam’s bed and rested, confident his charge would recover, though slowly. He blew out a breath and rolled his neck, startled when a hand reached out and caught his arm.

“Don’t leave me,” Sam whispered, eyes glowing as he fought the fever.

“I won’t,” Kurt said. “Rest now.”

Sam stared at him a moment longer before relaxing and drifting back off to sleep.

Kurt sighed. What in Tartarus was he thinking? He wanted to make sure Sam would be all right, but the wounds were treated and would heal well. There was no logical reason for him to remain and watch over the boy. This would delay his journey and he owed Sam nothing.

But he had promised. A loose promise at best, but a promise nonetheless. Integrity was so annoying, but was one of his few traits he admired. He kept his word. He had manipulated and deceived, but he had never outright lied. Even as a warlord he had lived by a code. The most successful ones always did.

As Sam slept, Kurt decided to make himself useful by helping the Sisters with their other patients, which were numerous. They were grateful for his assistance and, while he tended the infirm, Kurt subtly asked the Sister about what was happening in the region to account for so many sick and injured. There was no plague of which anyone was aware; the symptoms were too varied. There was no warlord trying to make a name for himself.

Deimos and Discord were dead, two minor deities who weren't missed and hadn’t been resurrected in Rome, had been killed permanently by Xena. Strife had been slain by Callisto. Nemesis had lost her power. The petty problems of a small village would hold no interest to Ares.

So what was going on?

He didn’t know, but resolved to find out.


End file.
